Thursday, November 9, 2017

Insomniac's Silent Black Buzz

Ten to five in the afternoon
Everything happens too soon
Hot breath on my neck
I hear it, immense 
The only one who knows what happens next 

Shit stained glass jar
Can you hear where we are 
Alone in a silence no one wants to hear 
I may not be alone
But can't really know, all that's awake is my fear

Don't take the last of what I have to give 
Marching in the black dusty dream that I live 
Quiet that child, its not me, not mine
Who am I
When every blink could be the last time



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